


Jealousy (is just love and hate at the same time)

by Selena Dusk (CrownPrincessMoon)



Series: Dearest Brother [2]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Because of Reasons, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Character Study, Daniel Gillies is bae, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Elijah is bisexual, F/M, Gen, Half-Sibling Incest, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Rebekah deals with a lot, Self-Indulgent, and because I said so, but not really, kind of, like i kind of hated klaus for what he did to her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownPrincessMoon/pseuds/Selena%20Dusk
Summary: "We are the strongest creatures in the world and yet we are damaged beyond repair. We live without hope but we will never die. We are the definition of 'cursed'. Always and forever."—Rebekah Mikaelson





	Jealousy (is just love and hate at the same time)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love Turned Inside Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/561894) by [we_remain_together](https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_remain_together/pseuds/we_remain_together). 
  * Inspired by [your hand in mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017600) by [icebluecyanide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebluecyanide/pseuds/icebluecyanide). 



> Hullo again,  
> Another piece of self-indulgent Klelijah, this time with (mild) smut! This took absolutely forever to write and perfect so I hope you guys enjoy!!
> 
> Check out my thoughts in the notes below! (If you're interested)

Unlike some people ( ***cough*** Elijah ***cough*** ) Rebekah had never been foolish enough to try and convince herself that what she had with her brothers was normal.  
  
That _they_ were normal.  
  
And sure, maybe once upon a time they were.  
  
Long ago when they were young and alive and their cheeks were rosy with blood. When their greatest joy came from simple things: flowers braided into her hair by her mother, Elijah and Nik's sparring lessons, Kol practicing his magic with Ayanna, and even Finn, with his holier-than-thou attitude, finding comfort in their mother's shadow.  
  
When the only things they had to fear were their father's temper and the men who turned into beasts on full moons. When Rebekah sought solitude alone in the woods in a feeble attempt to somehow tame the murderous rage boiling inside her whenever she saw Mikael hurting her brother, hurting Klaus, and Elijah had to keep her anger in check.  
  
(Even now she could _kill_ Mikael for all the times he laid a hand on him. String him up, bloody, and rip out his inte– **deep breaths**. Deep breaths, Rebekah. Breathe.  
  
**Breathe**. Where was she again?)  
  
...When Nik gave more than he received, comforted more than he was comforted himself, and loved those who didn't deserve to be loved. When mirror blue eyes kept her calm during thunderstorms, sparkled when they exchanged a secret joke with Elijah and glowed when he painted.  
  
When Nik...Niklaus was kind, and Elijah was overprotective, and Rebekah loved the two of them more than anything else in the world and them, her.  
  
They had always adored each other, the three of them—herself, Klaus, and Elijah. (She might have been so inclined to call themselves the Three Musketeers if such a phrase had existed during the 10th century.) Their bond was something unexplainable—Finn and Kol never quite fit in, to their eternal chagrin.  
  
When their mother's immortality spell turned them into vampires, turned their teeth into fangs and their minds into weapons, that same bond was strengthed, sealed in blood and stone by the death of their mother and a shared hatred of their father— **always and forever** , they promised.  
  
What fools they were.  
  
The murder of their mother and the wrath of their father had changed something in Niklaus, something made far worse by his vampirism.  
  
Before he had loved so easily, so freely, that when that love wasn't returned, or even worse, the person who earned his admiration disappointed him, he became nothing short of inconsolable.  
  
He never really did have the patience for those who disappointed him as a human and suddenly, a lot of people did as a vampire. Those who had once been on the receiving end of Klaus' affections were now enemies, people who conspired against him in the dark and plotted his demise behind his back.  
  
Even family.  
  
Take Finn and Kol, for example—warnings signs about how far gone Nik really was.  
  
Daggered and placed in glossy wooden caskets with the Mikaelson crest welded in gold as if to apologize for their current state— _"Don't be too upset, brothers! I got you the best coffins money could buy!"_  
  
Rebekah had never been afraid of him before, never thought that she would ever be on the receiving end of that rage—that _paranoia_.  
  
He was her big brother. He would never do anything to hurt her, she thought.  
  
And then she met Alexander, who was wonderful, _beautifully_  human and he made her think that there was a future for them, gave her the promise of a love that could make her truly happy, and then he–  
  
He _stabbed_ her in the heart.  
  
( _It was actually pretty poetic if she stopped to think about it._ )  
  
A second later she was alive again, gasping air she didn't need and smelling _blood blood blood_ –  
  
" _No!_ " She shrieked as she pawed over Alexander's broken body, tried to hear his heartbeat, " _How could you?!_ "  
  
Without warning, she was yanked off of him, off of the bed.  
  
"How could _I?!_ " Klaus roared, blue eyes flashing, "How could _you?!_ Tell me, sister, what did he promise you to keep this hidden from us? Hm?"  
  
"Nothing," she struggled in his grip, "I didn't know."  
  
" _Liar!_ You did know! You wanted to rid yourself of us, is that it?"  
  
"No, I–"  
  
"Do you tire of your older brothers, Rebekah?" Klaus hissed as the dagger moved to her heart, "Please tell me if you do and I'll remedy the situation immediately."  
  
"Klaus, _stop!_ You're scaring me!"  
  
" _Good_." The dagger pierced skin.  
  
"Niklaus!"  
  
Klaus froze, eyes locked on Rebekah's even as he addressed Elijah, "Yes, brother?"  
  
"Our sister has suffered enough from this traumatic event. Please, restrain yourself."  
  
One second passed.  
  
Two.  
  
Three...  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"Elijah," Rebekah whimpered.  
  
"Niklaus," Elijah admonished, his voice ridiculously calm for such a situation.  
  
Something flickered in Klaus' eyes and his hand dropped.  
  
"Fine." Niklaus disappeared with a silent whoosh, and Elijah was at her side in an instant.  
  
"Are you all right?" He asked, stroking her cheek.  
  
She shook her head, tears falling onto her cheeks.  
  
" _He was gonna–He was gonna–!_ "  
  
"No, of course not," Elijah soothed, he ran his hands over her blonde hair, smoothing the curls, "Niklaus would never hurt us."  
  
Rebekah remembered the wild glint in Klaus's eyes and suddenly—with very good reason—she wasn't so sure. After all, he left Finn daggered. Kol followed soon after.  
  
He apologized, eventually. Niklaus always did afterward.  
  
"I'm sorry that I caused you pain, sister," she remembered he said as he had spun her around the latest ballroom of the latest lord they were visiting during their tour across Europe, "It was never my intention to hurt you as I did."  
  
"Really?" she'd replied scornfully, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "Is that why you threatened to dagger me? Or why you've been ignoring me these past months?"  
  
Nik's sea-blue eyes had rolled, more annoyed than contrite in her opinion.  
  
"Admit it," she continued, executing a rather flawless twirl if she did say so herself, "You were punishing me for daring to even _think_ about leaving you."  
  
"Only because you could have done so much better," Nik took her elbow in his palm, stilling their movements as the nobles around them faded into blurs of silks and skirts, "Believe me when I say that when the time comes that you leave me for a worthy suitor, my heart will break into a million pieces, Rebekah, but until then you are my sister. _Mine_. Always and forever."  
  
Nik's gaze had been intense, far more so than usual, and if Rebekah hadn't known any better she would have said he was trying to compel her.  
  
"And you are my brother. Always and forever." She had whispered in reply, an unspoken acceptance of his somewhat mediocre apology, "Promise me you'll never do it again?"  
  
"Well..." she remembered Nik pulling her into the dance again, wrapping an arm around her waist, "That depends on whether the suitor behaves himself."  
  
" _Nik!_ " she had whined and he spun her, laughing.  
  
"I'm joking, sister mine," his lips had pulled up into that familiar smirk, "I promise."  
  
He was lying, she soon realized. She had a list of dead lovers to prove it. (And _why_ did that sound like a Taylor Swift song?)  
  
No, Niklaus had always been a jealous child. Not in the traditional sense, of course. This was _Nik_ she was talking about; nothing about him was traditional.  
  
What she meant to say is that he never seemed to suffer from the petty jealousies of childhood. Never coveted the belongings of his siblings, or others, for that matter.  
  
Quite unlike Rebekah who vividly recalled ignoring Kol for a week after their father gifted him with a silver dagger despite her rather logical arguments that Kol barely knew how to wield a _butter knife_ let alone a _dagger_. (And don't even get her _started_ on the fact that Kol had always gravitated towards their mother's magic, to begin with. What would he _honestly_ do with a dagger?)  
  
Not like Elijah who even with his cloak of nobility and shield of morals occasionally yearned to possess something that already belonged to another—usually a book or instrument, other times— _rarer times_ —a girl who's mind was just as stunning as her looks. He never did anything, of course.  
It was Elijah.  
(Her name was Tatia, Rebekah remembered. Pretty? _Yes_. Available, she was not. Personally, Rebekah always thought that her brothers could do so much better than a doppelganger, but _whatever_.)  
  
And certainly not like Finn who might have been the most envious of them all when, heaven forbid, their mother showed even a _sliver_ of affection for someone other than her firstborn son. (Rebekah remembers her twelfth birthday—Esther had gifted her with a string of golden beads to braid into her hair. " _My darling daughter_ ," she'd cooed, pressing her lips to Rebekah's forehead. The look Finn sent her over their mother's shoulder made Rebekah shiver. The next day, Finn "accidentally" broke the beads that had been set aside in a box next to her pillow. Their mother promised to fix it and Finn offered his aid with a cold smile. Rebekah accepted with an even colder smile. Needless to say, Rebekah made sure that Finn _never_ went into her room again.)  
  
She was getting off topic.  
  
The point was: Niklaus wasn't like that.  
  
No, Klaus was jealous in the sense that he was fiercely protective of the few things he did have. The peculiar necklace Mother gave him, the wooden figurines he carved in his free time, his sword—the only thing he had ever gotten from their father—and other seemingly inconsequential trinkets.  
  
An arrow from Elijah's quiver.  
  
A ribbon from Rebekah's jewelry box.  
  
Even a smooth, black stone that Kol had given him once.  
  
When he became a vampire those "trinkets" became less tangible, less in number, and more in meaning.  
  
Elijah's companionship, an unconditional love that bordered on unhealthy.  
  
Rebekah and his mutual adoration of each other.  
  
The only people, Rebekah was sure, who kept him from losing himself in a cesspool of paranoia and anger. And though she couldn't even _begin_ to presume to understand how Klaus' mind worked, she had a feeling that her brother knew that. Knew how important they were to his sanity and maybe—just _maybe_ —that was why he did what he did.  
  
Killed Alexander, threw Emil over the balcony, tore her away from Marcel, and erased her from Stefan's mind—to keep her close, by his side at all times. To ensure that she would _never_ leave him.  
  
She _hated_ him for it.

  
Hated him almost as much as she loved him, and yet, she stayed. It was the same flawed cycle: she fell for a man, Nik inevitably killed him, Rebekah swore never to forgive him, Nik bought her pearls and diamonds and made her laugh until she did forgive him, making him promise to never do it again, Nik agreed, they moved on to another village, and then, repeat.  
  
_Over and over and over again._  
  
And yeah, maybe he did do it to keep her close and keep himself in check, or maybe— _just maybe_ —he did it to punish her for what happened with Alexander all those years ago.  
For _attempting_ to leave him. For daring to even _dream_ of a life without him.  
  
She wondered sometimes, after Klaus has taken extreme relish in murdering a suitor, and she knew Klaus wondered, as well. Worried, too.  
How _long_ could he push? How _much_ could she take before he pushed her away forever?  
  
Lucky for him, she's not sure she could ever rid herself fully of Klaus. He was a part of her—a leech that fed off of her happiness and will to live independently—whether she liked it or not.  
  
It was... _different_ where Elijah was concerned.  
  
If her only purpose was to serve as his companion, an eternal buffer between Klaus and wretched loneliness, then Elijah was the reason their brother hadn't gone completely insane, hadn't _truly_ given up his humanity.  
  
Her older brother's seemingly boundless patience and stoic demeanor came in handy when dealing with Klaus' temper tantrums; he was rarely phased by the scenes of destruction and bloodshed that often followed Nik, wearing the same subtly amused expression as always. The slight upturn of his lips remained unchanged whether he was reading a good book or handing Niklaus a handkerchief after a particularly messy feeding.  
  
"Niklaus _needs_ us," Elijah tended to say whenever she suggested leaving their brother to his own devices, "Leaving him would be unwise. You know how he is."  
  
"And that's my fault?" she'd demanded the last time, crossing her arms. A lilting breeze had tugged a blonde curl from her bun as she leaned against the balcony's railing, watching the people of the town below, "And what about you? You can't _honestly_ expect me to believe that you see the rest of your immortal life at Nik's side. He's a madman on a good day, Elijah."  
  
"Always and forever, Rebekah. Did we not swear that to each other?" He had turned his gaze away from the night sky and onto her, chocolate brown met sky blue, "And as for Niklaus...How can I leave him when doing so means giving up on his redemption? Giving up on him?"  
  
She said nothing and Elijah sighed, slipping the coat of his suit off in his typical flourish. He pulled it over her shoulders, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. She rolled her eyes, unable to keep her mouth from curling upward as the click of Elijah's shoes faded away.  
  
"Don't stay out too late, sister. You'll catch your death."  
  
Her dear old, big brother—the _noble one_ , he's known as from all corners of the world—always there to pull Klaus back when he's gone a step too far. Bringing him down from his latest blood-binge high and disposing of the bodies he left behind.  
  
Elijah rarely took up lovers. Rarely tore his focus from their brother long enough to pursue other interests, but sometimes he did. Sometimes he found solace in a woman or man— _Elijah had always been open-minded and, anyhow, something as trivial as gender ceased to matter when you were destined to live forever_ —remarkable enough to pique his interest, gain a place in his heart. When he did, when he found his special someone, he was like a whole other man: gentle, and kind, and fiercely protective of the one who received his affections. His smiles were softer, his eyes not as calculating.  
  
He seemed... _happy_. Even Klaus who was convinced that the universe revolved around him was able to see this.  
  
"They're cute together," Rebekah remembered announcing from her picnic blanket, absently nursing a flask of wine as Elijah taught Lady Isabella how to hold a violin in the distance. They were in England then, visiting a small province owned by a noble under the guise of French royalty.  
  
"Yes, I suppose." Nik had positioned himself next to her when they first arrived in the field and he now sat drawing at her side, his tone almost deliberately bored as he briefly glanced up, taking in their brother.  
  
"I heard that her father was considering a betrothal," Rebekah continued, swirling the drink in her hand, "Talked about dowries and everything."  
  
"Is that so?" Nik mused, voice light and airy even as his grip tightened on the charcoal pencil, "What did Elijah say?"  
  
"Asked for some time, of course. We both know he wouldn't choose someone else over us, over family." _Over you._  
  
"Perhaps," Nik agreed, sounding far too pleased with himself, "People change though."  
  
"Not that much. Not Elijah."  
  
Nik hummed. "Maybe."  
  
The rules were different for Elijah. Whereas a man who even _breathed_ in Rebekah's direction was fair game for decapitation, Klaus was a bit more lenient with their brother. He humored his lovers and amused them with stories of Elijah's childhood, made them laugh and offered relationship advice (which was just as _horribly_ amusing as it sounded).  
More than he would ever do for Rebekah's suitors, and she'll admit, that she was a little jealous of the special treatment their older brother received.  
  
Only there was a catch; there always was with Niklaus, and for Elijah, it was this: no matter _whom_ he let in, no matter _who_ earned his love, be it man or woman, Niklaus _always_ came first.  
  
_Always_.  
  
When Elijah nixed a hunting expedition that had been planned weeks in advance between him and Klaus in order to attend a play with Isabella and her father, Klaus reacted accordingly to his unspoken rules (which is to say he reacted in a very Klaus-like fashion). He ate his way through the streets that night, drawing Elijah away from the play. Needless to say, their older brother was hardly amused by Nik's behavior and snapped his neck after a long and tiresome argument before returning to the theater with clear instruction for Rebekah to keep an eye on him.  
  
The next time Rebekah saw Isabella she laid sprawled out in her bedroom, the blood staining her white robes almost as red as the crimson of her hair, fanned out across her pillow. Her throat had been torn out by the very man who stood at the foot of her bed, examining her body like it was his latest piece of art— _Niklaus_.  
  
His smile was stained red.  
  
" _Nik, how could you?!_ " She rushed to the young woman's bedside, fangs sliding easily into her wrist. Blood stained the sleeves of her nightgown as she knelt on the sheets, pulling Isabella's head into her lap, and her lips felt cold and stiff against her skin.  
  
"Oh, don't bother," Nik's smile hadn't faltered as he watched her attempt to resuscitate the lady; instead, it grew wider by the second as her panic snowballed, fangs in full view, "She's _quite_ dead. I made sure of it."  
  
"But wh–? _Why?_ _Why_ would you do this to him?"  
  
"Ah, well," Nik shrugged, smirking, "Would you believe that he hurt my feelings?"  
  
Isabella's head slid off her lap as she stood, eyes stinging, and her hands curled into fists.  
  
"How could you do this?" She whispered, unable to clearly articulate the outrage she felt, "He was _happy_ , Nik. Happy. Elijah would _never_ do this to you and—"  
  
Her back slammed into a wall a moment later, Nik's bared fangs inches away from her face, and she shoved back, hard. Niklaus slammed into the wall opposite of her and was on his feet a second later.  
  
"He _hurt_ me," Klaus growled from low in his throat, "So I hurt him."  
  
Too many emotions danced across Klaus's face, too much for her to properly register: anger, hatred, apathy, fear...and _jealousy?_  
  
Below them the wooden stairs creaked, the deliberate cadence of the steps all too familiar:  
  
_Elijah_.  
  
She heard him stop, pause,—no doubt smelling the blood that coated the room like a poor interior designing choice, it was impossible _not_ to smell it—and then he was in the doorway and she could almost hear his heart splinter, his face contorting in pain as he stumbled forward.  
  
The tears that had been gathering in her eyes since she first entered the room finally pooled over, streaking down her cheeks. Elijah's first sob couldn't have hurt more if someone was stabbing her in the chest and even Klaus flinched a bit, looked away.

He disappeared out the window, leaving Rebekah to pull Elijah close and console him the best she could. She didn't have to tell him it was Niklaus' doing; that much went unsaid. After a couple hours, they went downstairs to find that Isabella's father had already been compelled to believe that his daughter was the victim of an assassination, a small courtesy from Nik which was... _something_ , at the very least.  
  
In the following weeks, Elijah all but barricaded himself in his room. He barely acknowledged her, sparing the occasional greeting, and it became safe to say that Niklaus wouldn't be receiving any brotherly favors anytime soon.  
  
"She was hardly something special," Nik complained on the eleventeenth day, dismissing the maid from the table, wrist still bleeding, "I mean, really. You'd think she was the Queen or something with how he's been acting. Or that I haven't done this before."  
  
"This isn't something you become numb or indifferent to, Nik. It's not like a wound that scabs over or a build of tolerance; it's your heart. Trust me when I say it will always hurt," Rebekah explained because Nik tended to forget how actual human emotions worked (vampire emotions, _whatever_ ), "He _loved_ her, Klaus, and you _hurt_ him."  
  
The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth promptly dropped, hand tightening around his glass as his eyes darkened.  
  
"He should be grateful."  
  
" _Grateful?_ " she scoffed, disbelieving, because this _man_ , "For what? That her death was quick? That she didn't suffer?"  
  
"I could have just as easily compelled her father to carve out her intestines. I like to think that her death was a merciful one, especially considering she was planning on taking Elijah away." Nik's smile was razor-edged.  
  
"You don't own, Elijah, nor me, Klaus. What you did was wrong."  
  
Nik rolled his eyes. "He'll find another. You've seen him, sister. There is no shortage of admirers where Elijah is concerned."  
  
And there it was again: the bitter undertone, the sardonic twist to his words that belayed a double meaning that Rebekah, for the life of her, could not figure out.  
  
"He _loved_ her." She repeated, stressing the word.  
  
"You say that like it should mean something to me."  
  
"It used to." She reminded him, remembering adventures in the clearing behind their home and the bright blue of Niklaus' laughter.  
  
"Did it?"  
  
And that was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? Whether or not Niklaus really knew what that felt like—to love someone the way _they_ , as vampires, were capable of loving and to have that person torn away by the one they were sworn to love always and forever. It was an agony of the worst kind and despite all that Klaus had done to her and Elijah, she wouldn't wish that pain on him on a bad day.  
  
"Oh, _please_ ," Nik threw his hands up, frustration palpable, "You can't _honestly_ expect me to believe that Isabella was the one for our brother. She couldn't _stand_ us, Rebekah; she thought that we were keeping Elijah from marrying her. Aside from being smarter than the average Victorian lady and that lovely, red hair, she had no redeeming qualities. She was an insignificant footnote in the extensive work that is our brother's life; a ruby among other jewels, just as shiny and eye-catching and easily replaceable by someone of our... _status_. Elijah has and will get over it."  
  
"How positively _poetic_ of you, brother," Their heads whipped towards the doorway where Elijah now stood, impeccably dressed as usual with his hands slung low in his pockets and not a hair out of place. They hadn't heard him come in, "I should've had you write Isabella's eulogy."  
  
"Elijah!" Rebekah was out of her chair and at his side in the blink of an eye, throwing her arms around him. He hugged her back, and she felt lips press firmly against her temple.  
  
"Hello, sister."  
  
"You smell of the town," she observed, pulling away to study him, "You went out this morning?"  
  
"Some errands I had to run," he explained, steering her back towards the table. She sat and he pushed her chair back in before settling between her and Niklaus, who had yet to say anything, watching Elijah over the rim of his glass.  
  
"I think it's time we moved on. This little town has suffered our presence long enough and we have to keep moving," Elijah took an apple from the center platter, running his gloved thumb over its shiny red surface, "I've already made the necessary arrangements. Those of importance have been compelled to forget we were ever here."  
  
"Where will we go next?" Rebekah asked, curious.  
  
"Sweden, perhaps? I heard that the Crown Prince will be crowned soon."  
  
"Really?" She exclaimed, already envisioning the dresses she would have made for the event, "Oooh, let us play the roles of English nobility this time; it's tiring having to maintain a French accent constantly."  
  
"Hmm...What do _you_ think, Niklaus?" He glanced at Klaus who's eyebrows shot up, comically.  
  
"Oh, are you speaking to me now?" He asked, face exaggeratedly aghast. Her brother had such a flair for dramatics, Rebekah thought with an eye roll, and even Elijah appeared amused by the display, "What happened to the silent treatment, big brother?"  
  
"I think my lack of attention served as punishment enough, little brother. Tell me, Niklaus: what was it like realizing that you were not the center of my universe?"  
  
"A torture of the worst kind," Nik appeared to joke, blue eyes twinkling, "I couldn't stand one more second without your insufferable company and incessant hovering. Not to mention that Rebekah was far too chatty to be a suitable replacement for my moral compass."  
  
" _Hey!_ "  
  
"It sounds dreadful, indeed." Elijah's smile was dry, not quite reaching his eyes, and Klaus' own merriment seemed to fade in response.  
  
"How was the funeral?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"Inconspicuous," Elijah answered, "No one was asking any suspicious questions. Everyone seemed to believe she was murdered by an assassin."  
  
"Good," Nik said, not quite meeting his gaze, "We'll leave at the end of this week."  
  
I'll prepare the staff." Elijah concurred as he rose from his seat. He was almost at the door when Nik suddenly called out, "Elijah,"  
  
Their older brother's hand froze on the doorknob, his shoulders visibly tensing underneath his coat.  
  
"I..." Klaus began, falling silent when they both turned to look at him.  
  
"Yes?" Elijah prompted, one eyebrow raising, and even Rebekah found herself leaning forward at what was most likely some major character development on Klaus' part.  
  
Nik's mouth opened and closed a few times as he seemingly struggled to find the words.  
  
Finally: "Tell the servants to be careful with my portraits. Some of them might still be wet."  
  
Rebekah resisted the urge to slap a hand across her forehead as Elijah's mouth turned down around the edges before smoothing out.  
  
"Of course." He answered stiffly. His departure was quiet and final, the door clicking shut behind him.  
  
Rebekah closed her eyes and held back a sigh, tilting her head back. Oh, Nik...  
  
She opened her mouth to scold him because honestly, all he had to do was _apologize_ , and froze at the conflicted expression he directed towards the door. He looked... _in pain_. Hurt.

It was gone once he saw her looking at him, and a smirk forced itself on to his mouth.  
  
"What?" He snarked.  
  
"You're terrible."  
  
"Yes, I've heard."  
  
"Why didn't you apologize? We both know you were going to."  
  
"I don't _need_ to apologize," Nik rolled her eyes as if she had asked a particularly foolish question, "Elijah will come to forgive me. He always does."  
  
And as much as Rebekah hated the self-assured grin he wore, wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face, she knew he was right. More than right. Elijah lived in the same toxic cycle of give-and-take with Niklaus as she did. The only difference was that while she was willing to try and escape the tyrannical control he held over her life, Elijah couldn't seem to even _begin_ imagining a world without Niklaus.  
  
Without his futile pursuit of Nik's redemption.  
  
Sometimes she loved him for it.  
  
Other times...Other times she hated him.

* * *

 

_Several decades later..._

  
  
Nik's art studio had the best lighting in the manor, and inside Rebekah stood in a full-length mirror, preparing herself for the night to come. California was so... _different_ from New Orleans. It was more open...freer. As much as she loved the place she had come to call home and the man in it, she couldn't deny the allure of the City of Angels. Especially when there were so many devils among them, and Rebekah could always appreciate some good irony.  
  
Niklaus was painting again—a testament to how settled he must be if he was willing to indulge himself in his art. It usually took Klaus months to fully acclimate to a new town, a new identity, before he could return to his sketchbooks and canvases.  
  
They were wealthy investors from New Orleans this time around, interested in the construction of the LA aqueduct, while she posed as their high-class little sister. Her brothers had gone to a meeting concerning the building site earlier, giving her full reign of the house for the time being, and she made the most of it, planning a night out with the local youth.  
  
**Boom!**  
  
The door to the manor opened and boomed shut, startling Rebekah from her musings.  
  
Well, it was fun while it lasted; they were home.  
  
Nik appeared first—it was his art studio, after all—and she looked away from the mirror to watch him. Layers of his attire slid off, like a snake shedding its skin—top hat, overcoat, suit jacket, tie loosened and left hanging around his neck, and the first buttons of his collar undone.  
  
"I take it tonight was a success?" She asked, tinkering with her earrings.  
  
He grunted, went straight towards his easel which held his latest work, "I'm thinking a month or so before we can leave."  
  
"You don't sound particularly happy about that," Rebekah observed, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress, and touching up her lipstick.  
  
"Yeah, well. Elijah's a prick."  
  
"I've been called worse," she heard Elijah before she saw him, his voice lined with irritation as the telltale sound of the door locking clicked, "Was your behavior _really_ necessary tonight?"  
  
"And _that's_ my cue to exit," Rebekah announced, smile false and bright—ever since the death of Harrison, Elijah's latest lover, a hostile air filled the room whenever her brothers entered, "Don't wait up too long."  
  
She kissed Elijah's cheek and waved farewell to Klaus, opening the door and walking out. She made it five feet before she realized she left her purse in the adjoining room to the studio. Rolling her eyes, she entered, reaching for her purse when she finally took notice of her siblings through the frosted screen door and heard:  
  
"–I say?" Nik was saying, tone amused as usual, "I didn't like the way he talked to you."  
  
"You just threatened to _disembowel_ the mayor's son in front of his father. Anyone could have heard or _seen_ you–"  
  
Rebekah rolled her eyes. Typical Nik.  
  
"But you made sure they didn't, right?" Nik asked, throwing his coat over the settee, "My big brother: always looking out for me."  
  
"What you did was _incredibly_ foolish and poorly thought out. Even for you." Elijah scolded, dark eyes flashing.  
  
"Oh, _poor you_ ," Nik sighed, a bit too long to be sincere, taking his palette in hand he turned his attention to his latest work: a watercolor portrait of a California sunset, "Like he won't be back to pester you tomorrow."  
  
"He won't," Elijah said, stiffly, and Nik turned to look at him questioningly. Rebekah frowned as well, "I compelled him to stay away from me. You."  
  
"Why? Don't trust me?" _As much as I trust Kol to keep his bloodlust under control_ , Rebekah thought and considered voicing out loud.  
  
"Believe it or not, Niklaus, I don't. Not with those I care about, at least. I would rather not have a repeat of the Harrison or Isabella incident, so I told him to forget his interests in me and pursue others."  
  
"Said as if it _wasn't_ the 1900's and we weren't in the States." Nik snorted, setting down his paints if only to reach for the decanter on the tabletop, pouring two glasses of shimmering scotch, "This country's _hardly_ the poster child of progressive thinking."  
  
He offered one to Elijah who simply stared, unamused, and Nik sighed.  
  
"Forgive me, brother, for I am a jealous man. I don't like sharing what's _mine_." He winked then, before downing both glasses consecutively.  
  
"As Rebekah likes to _repeatedly_ remind you, Niklaus, you do not own us. We don't belong to you and therefore, I am not yours to _keep_ or _protect_ or _punish_ or _whatever_ it is you think you're doing in that twisted little mind of yours."  
  
"Perhaps, I'm saving you for someone better," Nik replied with a shrug, eyes filled with sharp merriment, "No one you've pursues was worth your attention, Elijah. Not Anya, not Isabella, and not even Harrison. Deep down I know you believe the same."  
  
" _Saving me?_ " Elijah scoffed, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, "For _who_ , Niklaus? Who could _possibly_ be good enough for me? For what _I_ am? What _we_ are?"  
  
He took a couple steps closer to Nik, voice lowering almost imperceptibly so until it was a growl.  
  
" _Why_ must you deny me so? Why can't we— _me and Rebekah_ —be happy? Why must you be so–?"  
  
" _Because it isn't fair!_ " Nik interrupted, voice laced with venom, and Elijah abruptly paused, mouth frozen in mid-speech, and though she wasn't in the same room, the atmosphere suddenly felt heavy, the space between her brothers charged with a tension that materialized from out of nowhere.  
  
She had missed something. Something had changed— _shifted_ somewhere. Tone, perhaps?  
  
Uncertainty and fear and anger warred across Klaus's brow before her brother's features were wrestled into something too flat to be sincere. With movements that were almost too smooth, too intentional, he set both glasses down and moved forward until he was nearly toe-to-toe with Elijah, their noses almost brushing. Though her oldest brother's face remained impassive, his eyes were inquisitive, fixed solely on Nik's.  
  
...What was going on?  
  
"It isn't _fair_ that you get to love them when–" Nik's voice broke over the words, and his gaze flittered back-and-forth between the chocolate brown of Elijah's eyes and his parted lips.  
  
Dark brows creased even as a new clarity shone in the eyes beneath them, "When what, Niklaus?"  
  
Rebekah's throat went dry.  
  
Without warning, Nik's hands were at his throat, fumbling with Elijah’s tie, pulling it loose and undoing the top button of his shirt.  
  
Elijah watched him, dark eyes never leaving his face and Rebekah tried to shake off the anticipatory chill crawling up her arms.  
  
“What are you doing, Niklaus?” Elijah asked in a low voice, giving voice to her own thoughts.  
  
“I’m taking off your tie,” Klaus said, rather reasonably, not glancing up from his fingers. “There’s really no good reason to look this uptight at one in the bloody morning.”  
  
“Niklaus.” Elijah captured his wrists and held them still.  
  
Klaus looked up to meet his brother’s eyes.  
  
“When what?” Elijah asked again.  
  
_"It isn't fair that you get to love them when–"_  
  
Klaus licked his mouth.  
  
_"When what, Niklaus?"_  
  
He wouldn't.  
  
_"He'll find another. You've seen him, sister. There is no shortage of admirers where Elijah is concerned."_  
  
Niklaus wouldn't. **Doesn't**.  
  
_"He hurt me," Klaus growled from low in his throat, blue eyes dark with anger and pain, and so much pain, "So I hurt him."_  
  
He wouldn't _actually_ –He was bluffing, he had to be. Trying to throw Elijah off-kilter for revenge or fun or some other sick reason.  
  
_"I couldn't stand one more second without your insufferable company and incessant hovering. Not to mention that Rebekah was far too chatty to be a suitable replacement for my moral compass."_  
  
Nik wouldn't _actually_ –didn't _actually_ have feelings for Eli–  
  
"This."  
  
Klaus surged forward, effectively derailing that train of thought as he captured Elijah's mouth with his own, hands coming up to grip the lapels of his suit, and **WHAT**. **THE**. **ACTUAL**. **FUCK**. **NIK**.  
  
It was, she observed almost absently, simple.  
  
Almost... _sweet_.  
  
A press of lips, a tilting of Niklaus' head when the angle wasn’t quite right, and then they lingered together, their mouths barely moving. And while Elijah wasn't actively kissing back, he also _wasn't_ pushing Nik away. Rebekah surmised that he must have been thrown into shock like she was.  
  
Nik pulled away, eventually, hands dropping to his sides. Something disturbingly close to fear playing across his face before he wiped it away, replaced by a familiar cocky smirk.  
  
"Have I _revolted_ you, brother? Convinced you to run and hide from me? Tell me, am I still _redeemable_?"  
  
Elijah said nothing, his sculpted features akin to that of a Greek statue he stood so still. Nik's smirk was faltering, uncertainty and false confidence bleeding from him, and Rebekah couldn't help but feel the same; why hadn't Elijah reacted yet? A yell, a shout, a reprimand; _something_. Personally, she had a couple choice words for Nik about kissing people who were related to them (admittedly _partially_ , in his case, but still), but Elijah...He simply stood there, staring.  
  
"Say something," Nik's threatening growl was undermined by the break in his words, voice despairing.  
  
"You...have paint on your face."  
  
He... _What?_  
  
"What?" Nik voiced out loud, his look of bewilderment almost comical given the situation.  
  
"Paint," Elijah repeated, tugging his handkerchief from his front pocket. He dipped it into the pitcher of clean water next to Nik's paints and wrung it out. With his movements as precise and thought out as ever, one would never have guessed that he was just kissed by his brother.  
  
"You were always such a mess as a child. Remember?" he mused, almost to himself, as he dabbed away the streak of paint on Niklaus' cheek, his movements far more gentle than they had any right to be. His left hand came up, his fingertips just barely brushing Klaus's face as he tilted his head ever so.  
  
"Elijah." Nik said, _pleaded_ , "Say something."  
  
Elijah didn't reply as he curled the handkerchief into his palm, his thumb lightly brushing over Niklaus' cheekbone before dropping lower, on to his lips. Rebekah watched aghast as Elijah ran his thumb over Nik's bottom lip, slow and sure. A second later his thumb disappeared into Nik's mouth and Elijah's own lips parted around the sharp breath he drew.  
His thumb reappeared, glistening and wet, and Elijah resumed his prior motions, tracing a line across Nik's bottom lip.  
  
"This is wrong," Elijah finally replied, almost breathlessly so.  
  
"That's what makes it fun," Nik replied, low in his throat. He was inching closer, slow and slinky like a predator stalking its prey when he realized Elijah wasn't shying away from him. "Do you want me to stop?"  
  
" _Rebekah_ –" Elijah began, sending her heart racing with fear at the thought that she had been discovered.  
  
"–Is out with friends," Nik finished for him, gifting her a moment to breathe, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."  
  
Nik was closer now, his lips brushing against Elijah's as he spoke.  
  
" _This is wrong_ ," he said again, eyes fluttering closed as Nik's tongue swiped along his bottom lip, veins rose briefly beneath his lashes, and Rebekah wholeheartedly agreed. Just because they were capable of committing every sin in the book didn't mean they should.  
  
"Maybe," Nik agreed, mouth moving against Elijah's ear, "But we are far from saints, Elijah."  
  
" _Niklaus_ ," Her older brother murmured with a hint of warning or caution or perhaps something else entirely, and something finally gives.  
  
A second later he had Niklaus' back against the nearest wall, cracks originating from the point of impact as Elijah kissed him back firmly.  
  
Rebekah felt herself flush, no doubt as red as her lipstick. This was... _wrong_ on so many levels and yet...And yet she couldn't make herself look away.  
  
There was an uncharacteristic urgency to Elijah's movements, different from his usual slow, mild mannerisms, as he all but ripped the buttons off of Klaus' shirt and ran his hands up-and-down his abdomen.  
Nik's legs came up, wrapping around Elijah's waist as he was propped further up against the wall, his hands tangling in the disarray that was now Elijah's hair. As open-mouthed kisses were pressed along his neck and jaw, Nik's head rolled back, features contorted in ecstasy.  
  
Klaus' hips suddenly rolled, drawing a soft but audible gasp from Elijah, and Rebekah decided then and there that she never, _ever_ , _under any circumstances_ wanted to hear that sound from her brother again.  
  
She went to look away when Nik's eyes suddenly flew open and he stared right at her as if he could see her from behind the frosted glass which, for all she knew, he probably could. Her blood ran cold as Nik smiled a particularly wolfish smile before elongating his neck and grinding down once more.  
  
"Bed," Nik demanded suddenly, tearing his gaze from the glass door as he pressed his mouth back onto Elijah's. They remained there for some time, kissing heatedly, and then they were gone, no doubt upstairs in one of their bedrooms.  
  
Spotting her chance, Rebekah speed out of the house and into the lamplit street of California. A chill breeze whistled by, cooling her heated cheeks as she leaned back against a storefront to catch her breath. Some looked strangely at her as they passed by, but she paid them no heed.  
  
Nik and Elijah just...They were...  
  
She closed her eyes, unable to keep herself from replaying the scene in her mind. Nik's lecherous smirk and the almost desperate desire with which Elijah responded to his advances.  
She felt, for the first time in centuries, what she could only liken to nausea rise in her stomach.  
  
When had it happened? At what point did Elijah's blind devotion to Niklaus turn into something as twisted as this? Was it when he refused to leave with her all those years ago? Or maybe it went further than that—to when they were young and human and Elijah doted on Niklaus, lovingly.  
  
_The Three Musketeers_ , she had called them.  
  
She scoffed at the adolescent musing, a stupid dream now that she knew the truth.  
  
When her eyes closed she saw Elijah surrender to their brother, as he always had, letting Niklaus bridge the gap between them and press their lips together  
  
Elijah had never been hers; he had never belonged to anyone but Niklaus.  
  
And _Niklaus_? Niklaus was was nothing but a _terrible_ , jealous man who desired all the happiness in the world for himself, and who, at that moment, Rebekah loathed.  
  
Wiping the water off her cheeks, she found her friends and spent the rest of the moonlit night with them. Indulged herself with _whatever_ she desired, danced _however_ she desired, and drank from _whomever_ she desired, before falling into bed with a young man she could only vaguely recall if asked about him. The endeavor was a blur, honestly. Hot and heavy, but not _nearly_ as intoxicating as it would have been with the one her heart desired.  
  
Sliding her dress back on and slipping her heels onto her feet, she considered just leaving. Going somewhere far enough where Niklaus could never find her, even if he searched for a thousand lifetimes. Find someone who could and would love her in spite and despite what she was. Be happy, for _once_ in her long, cursed life.  
  
And still, she found herself back at the manor, hand splayed against the intricate wood.  
  
_Always and forever_ , they'd promised, _family above all_.  
  
_This_  was where she belonged. She’d pledged that long ago, and it was far more than century-old oaths that held her here.  
  
The door opened, and Elijah was there, a look of momentary relief gracing his features as he swept her into his arms. Behind his shoulder, she saw Nik's shoulders loosen, concern melting off his face as an indifferent smirk took its place.  
  
They would stick together, regardless. Nothing else mattered.

 

Nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts while writing this and watching The Originals:
> 
> • Elijah Mikaelson is bae.
> 
> • Hayley Marshall is a badass werewolf queen motherf*cker.
> 
> • Writing smut is far harder than it should be. Even if it's mild.
> 
> • What is the ship name for Klaus and Elijah? Anyone?
> 
> • Is it strange that I preferred the codependent relationship between Klaus and Elijah than Klaus and Camille's romance?
> 
> • I have a newfound respect for Rebekah after writing this. I mean, damn. This girl just wanted somebody to love. 
> 
> • *Sigh* Why is Elijah so gorgeous?
> 
> (Nice comments and kudos appreciated!!)


End file.
